Ignorance is Bliss
by Weiila
Summary: In truth, Erol was not sure why it mattered. He just knew it did. And Razer would never know how closely death itself watched him that night.


_Disclaimer: Don't own them._

_Author's note: Written for Nashidesei. :3_

Ignorance is Bliss

He did have better things to do. Lots of them, in fact. His employers certainly thought so and whined in the back of his head, but for once he zoned them out. For a moment he felt a brush of anxiety from them, as raw as everything else they displayed.

They had only simple emotions and drives – rage and hunger, mainly. Like angry children.

And now, they felt a speck of horror, wondering if their chosen champion hesitated. The anxiety rose even more when he kept ignoring them, and the buzz increased.

Finally he could no longer just ignore it, and snapped at them to shut the hell up. This was important too, in that way that they didn't understand.

And no, he was not going anywhere until he was done.

They withdrew, grumbling and pouting.

Definitely children.

He pursed his split lips in a sneer, turning his full attention back to what he had been doing. Really, was it worth getting so agitated about somebody just watching?

Of course, the dark makers did not like passivity. They only wanted action, destruction, now, now, NOW.

For the first time in quite a while, Erol didn't care. Even though he himself was not quite sure why he was doing it, for tonight he would not play part in the carnage on the continent. The metal heads and the KG bots could rip Haven apart on their own for once. It wasn't like they needed him to do more than coordinate them to attack targets en masse. The rest of the job they did well on their own, most of the time.

The city never slept, but he had been careful when he swept down and landed on the roof of the tall building he had chosen. The flashing neon signs on all the rooftops flared so brightly that nobody noticed an extra blaze. Still, he had let the jetpacks blast only just enough to keep him afloat as he sunk down to the concrete roof.

Even sitting there, after several hours of the same and just waiting, he was not sure why he had bothered.

All the flashing lights annoyed him, but they had always done so. Right now, this place seemed even more desperate than the ruined Haven, scrabbling to keep hold of that air of luxury and wealth even when the rest of the world was torn apart. And with the rest of the world, the resources that had to be imported went down the drain too.

This city avoided invasion simply because it had nothing to offer a force like the metal heads, one who didn't give a rat's ass about money.

He really had no reason to be here. The mechanical part about him told him so, and even the little remaining humanity agreed. Wasting time on a rooftop when he had preparations for world destruction waiting for him.

Still he did not make a motion to leave.

For tonight, he didn't even care that Jak had turned out to be alive and well in the wasteland.

… well, he filed it to the back of his mind, at least.

A light flashed on in an apartment on the other side of the road, turning the black window squares bright and transparent. With a delicate clicking sound, almost inaudible, Erol's eyes shifted a little. His vision zoomed in with a thought, offering him a perfect view of the furniture inside. For a couple of minutes, that was all he saw.

Then finally a shadow moved, creeping across the floor until its source followed. Erol did not notice the smirk on his own lips until it was there. Not entirely malevolent. Unfamiliar to his new body.

A cloud of smoke trailed behind the man as he walked through the living room, leaving a wispy track in the air until he plucked the cigarette from his lips and crushed it in an ashtray on the elegant table. With the same easy, fluid motions Razer drew a hand through his thick black hair, letting out a sigh before reaching for a pocket in his shirt, and another cigarette.

Well, didn't somebody just look bored out of his skull? Without his jacket on, and only black pants and a white shirt, he seemed to lack that extra flare.

Of course, not even with his mechanical eyes could Erol notice a single unappealing rumple or crease in Razer's clothing, not even when he had apparently just come home.

Kras' champion lounged down in an armchair beside the window, lighting his cigarette without any greater sign of interest. Just habit. The next sigh was visible, filling the air in front of him with new smoke.

At ease, he had even taken off his gloves. The marine blue color which swallowed up his left hand shone against the light brown of the floor, creeping into his sleeve. It broke the sense of absolute elegance, just like the massive tattoo on his back did. Erol had said that it was ridiculous the first time he saw it, to which Razer only smirked and traced the gray marks on the commander's face and chest.

Annoying as hell. There was a world of difference between their tattoos, but Razer brushed it off without a word. He did that a lot, in the same way those marine blue fingers traced over a damp back, finding knotted nerves Erol had never been aware of. But Razer found them and easily rubbed them out of existence, even when the muscles below his fingertips tensed in mute protest.

Erol hated that too, but he had let it pass anyway. Most of the time because Razer always acted when the exhaust was greater than the anger. Smartass.

Now, holding the cigarette loosely between two fingers, Razer gazed outside. However, he stared at the cars and pedestrians below, not high enough to spot the shadow on the roof.

He always was tall enough not to have to look up. It had driven Erol mad sometimes, even though he had grown up being used to always being the smallest grown man in any room. Small, but quick and deadly, which made him such a great racer in the first place. And most people never expected the strength hidden in such a lithe body, not until they found themselves on the floor with a foot crushing down on their throat.

Jak was about the only person Erol had ever met while still alive, whom he could look down on.

Artificial skin creased in a frown. Where the hell had Jak came from? He didn't belong, not here. Not in Kras.

There was no reason to think of Jak here, not while watching Razer. The two men had absolutely nothing in common, from the wildly different build down to the hair color. Where Razer was elegant, Jak was crude and blunt. Razer could never be rattled by anything, even his anger controlled – while the snap of fingers, a sneer, anything, made Jak explode with fury.

Easy prey.

Rattling Jak was ridiculously simple. He was so raw one could think his skin had been peeled off and only seemed to have grown back. Breaking him was another matter entirely.

Razer could not be broken either, yet… Erol had never felt the real desire to do so.

He wanted Jak much more than he could recall ever wanting Razer. Jak was something completely different, something that fell apart but never broke, always got back up. Something that drove Erol mad with desire to crush.

A different challenge.

But Razer was different too, distinguished from a mass of boredom. He could not be unnerved, always with a sense of coolness even in the most heated situation. Always in control… almost. Tiny slips in unguarded moments made him even more fascinating.

Wanting Razer was nothing like wanting Jak.

No, the little freak had no right to be here, not even in Erol's thoughts while in this place.

Jak should never be allowed to enter Kras City.

The thought of Jak and Razer meeting made Erol grit his teeth.

Never.

He would rather kill Razer than let that happen.

Part of him immediately calculated how easy that would be. Even if the windows were bullet proof – he was pretty sure they were, Mizo had always guarded his champion like a golden egg – it would be as easy to break through the wall as through paper.

Still, Erol remained where he was, with a sense of confusion. The calculating part was usually the part of him that made him act. But not in this moment.

To battle the confusion he toyed with the idea of breaking through the wall anyway, not to kill Razer but see his reaction. Kras' champion always seemed to expect every move, even those he could not react to quickly enough to counter. That was what made him such a great combat racer.

But see him try to deal with this, gaze upon an old… friend so radically different. See him deal with what had caused everyone else, even Jak, to recoil in disgust. Would that not, finally, rattle him?

Do you recognize me now, Razer? Will you stare or scream or run too?

And yet, even at that interesting prospect, Erol found himself not making a motion to carry out the idea. Maybe that was the entire reason he was here in the first place, to see if Razer was truly different from everyone else.

Did it matter that much?

Yes, Erol realized, it did matter that much.

In fact, it mattered so much that he already knew that it was true. He didn't need to be proven wrong.

He didn't have to kill Razer. Or even let him see what had been done to his old friend.

He could just kill Jak instead, like he had always planned to do.

Yes.

Satisfied, Erol remained where he was while Razer got up and went to another room. The cyborg still remained, until the lights all were switched off again as the racer headed to bed. Only then did Erol get up with a clatter and dry heaving of gears, ordering his jetpack to come back to life and bring him away from Kras City.

In the end, it would no longer matter.

Razer too would die when the world ended.

But, he would never know who caused it.

The End.


End file.
